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i believe that about eighty percent of people look like birds. the general characteristics of a bird person are a pointy (beaky, you might say) nose, a sharp chin, small head and they quite often wear glasses. bird people freak me out. i see them everywhere. calista flockhart, for example, is a bird person.

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i was doing some ironing the other night and b walked up to me and announced “i’ve decided to limit myself in underwear… not only in travel, but in life.” he never wants to have more than fourteen pairs at a time.

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yesterday i sent out a mass email detailing our travels thus far, as well as our further plans. i talked about our last days in spain, tavira and albufeira. my mom got back to me and said that she spent two weeks in albufeira in 1975/6. i think that´s pretty damn cool. my mom has done a lot of travelling; she´s been to mexico, many places in africa, thailand and apparently portugal. i´m sure she´s been to even more places and i just haven´t been told about it yet. i like to think that i´m a bit like her. she´s got an adventurous spirit and i´m sure she would have spent all her days trotting the globe if it hadn´t been for myself, my sister and my brother. sometimes i think i just want to spend the rest of time like this. always travelling, always in limbo and always free.

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the moment i sat down with my caramel latte i dragged my lovely scarf (it’s so soft) through it. as i was attempting to mop up that mess i knocked over my purse and the bulk of the contents spilled out and skittered across the floor. sigh. after i finally got myself back in order i had to sit there, cheeks flaming, pretending that it was fine and i don’t care that i am a complete clod. honestly though, it’s really hard sometimes. i’ll be striding confidently down the sidewalk, feeling fab, when suddenly i’ll trip over a slab of stone that’s sticking out above the rest about, oh, a millimeter or so. suddenly i’ll be sprawled out across the pavement with mud on my trousers, a scraped nose and a bruised ego. the fact that i’ve made it to twenty-four without being involved in some kind of a fatal accident is simply nothing short of a miracle. thank god b pulls me out of the way of on coming traffic, dogs, doors, people walking toward me, telephone poles, children and anything else that might have the misfortune of coming into contact with my accident-prone self.